


Insecure!Kuroo x Reader - A Genuine Reality

by KittenTalesAuthor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Nekoma, One-Shot, Oneshot, Reader-Insert, XReader, insecure Kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenTalesAuthor/pseuds/KittenTalesAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perception can be misleading. Sometimes, when we see someone who is confident and carries themselves on with pride and a wide smile on their faces, the feelings within them are much bluer. Kuroo Tetsurou knows this fact all too well. For a long time, the volleyball Captain has had to cope with an idealistic image set on his person even if it wasn't what he was really like or what he wanted to be. He's become self-conscious, shy, negative and deathly afraid of being marked as an imperfection in fear of disappearing altogether or letting down those he cares about the most. Nobody cares to know what he's like on the inside, to know what he thinks of in that head of his. Well, nobody except _______. She accepts him with open arms, listens to him when he talks and genuinely tries to discover the boy behind the jersey. Maybe her sweet acceptance could help bring a little light to his mind and make him see it's okay to be imperfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insecure!Kuroo x Reader - A Genuine Reality

Perception is weird.

I just don’t get it. I mean, I get everybody has some kind of different insight whenever they meet someone or know of them even if it’s from afar, but it’s always been a weird concept to me. A lot of people, from what I know, have made me out to be this really confident, prideful guy. To most, I’m mysterious, dark in a way, foreboding, alluring, proud, sly, courageous, so on and so on. I can’t say I’m upset at these people for having these assumptions about me – some of them are positive thoughts, after all. I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m really not like that at all. Sure, I play myself out to be calm, cool and collected on the outside, suave and smooth, but deep inside, when it comes to the important things, all of that act comes crashing right back down. It gets harder and harder to keep a positive look on things, I start to pick at my errors more than usual and beat myself up _hard_ over them. I don’t see the self-worth in me so many people think I have. There isn’t much to me in my eyes but a guy who loves volleyball. What else can I say, honestly? I guess that I don’t like losing and I’m proud of my team, but that’s it. Otherwise, I’m just Kuroo Tetsurou, some other kid who goes to Nekoma High.

A lot of people would think I have it made and I know a good portion of these people. They think I’m lucky because of the attention I have dragged to me due to my looks and skills on the court. They constantly tell me they envy me because of the adoring eyes always locked on me, swooning, fanning themselves, but I’ve never been asked what I think about it. I guess even if I was, I wouldn’t tell them the truth. A lot of people think I’m lucky for having so many people come after me, but I honestly hate it. I hate it more than I can even describe. I don’t think I’m lucky. I don’t think I have an ounce of good fortune to spare in this body of mine. To have so many people set their eyes on me and ‘love me’, as some of them say, just for my looks and the way I perform during games honestly hurts. What is it about me they like, then, if I were to take those two things out of the equation? Do they know anything about me? Have they even tried to find out? Do they know I can be playful without having to be a flirt? Do they know I’m actually awkward as hell contrary to their beliefs in me being a seductive Casanova? Do they know I like being carefree? Do they know I love staying inside for movie marathons when it rains but am deathly terrified of lightning? Do they know I’m actually _the_ biggest comic nerd out there? Do they know I love dumb jokes and cheesy lines? Do they know _anything_ apart from what I look like and how I play a game? Granted, volleyball is very important to me and it’s more than just a game, but there’s _more_ to me than just that.

Nobody really cares to find out, though. Nobody tries to approach me and ask me things, talk to me like a real person rather than just some sports icon. It makes me feel worse and worse about myself with each passing day because it leads me to think: would I just as well disappear altogether if I didn’t play at all and if I didn’t look the way I do? To know that most of the attention I get outside from my team is so superficial really hurts and, when people say I’m lucky, I have to laugh in bittersweet acknowledgement. It’s lonely. Really lonely. There’s nobody I can talk to about random things, nobody I can turn to and laugh with about the stupidest things in the world. Of course, my team will always be like family to me and I also have Bokuto, my main bro. They all mean the world to me, but this is just…different. It’s scary to think I wouldn’t even know any of them if I hadn’t joined the team. What would I be left with without them? I’m not so sure. I don’t think I’d have anybody by my side then. I don’t think anybody would care and it sucks. It fucking sucks. I don’t like being in the center of the limelight, I don’t like letting people down and I don’t like being idolized for shallow looks and appearances. I want people to like me for who I _am_ not what I look like and how well I can serve a ball. So, no. I’m not lucky. I don’t have an advantage. I’m not confident with myself and it’s only getting worse with the more I start to realize it.

Voices in my head quickly tell me everything I’m doing wrong and point every little last detail of these mistakes out to me. They break me down more and more as they force my self-esteem to decay practically to nothing, but still I try to keep up the act. I do everything in me to keep my prideful façade even if it hurts _bad_ on the inside. I don’t want to be a gilded display for everyone, but what else am I supposed to do if I want to stay on the surface to breathe? That’s why, over time, I learned to mainly stick to myself when I wasn’t with the rest of the team. I keep quiet and make sure to withhold that straight face that I guessed caused my ‘mysterious’ trait in the perception others have of me. They think its brooding and alluring in some way when really, all my mind is doing to me in the silence is putting me down more even though I try so hard to stop it. Sighing deeply, I shook my head to try and brush those thoughts away from me for a while, not wanting to concentrate too much on the negative so early in the day. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my sweater and took a glance along the hallway as I walked on, my seemingly uninterested sight picking up on a couple of faces I recognized from the stands during my games. They weren’t important. Most of them just sort of formed groups at the games to swoon over the players, including myself. I frowned deeply at the thought that nagged at me and looked away, deciding to just stare at my feet so I wouldn’t be forced to think about it.

The worst part about it is that, no matter how bad they make me feel with this superficial attraction, I don’t want to let anybody down.

The pressure always builds up high inside of me whenever we’re in a match against another school. Whether it be a practice session or a real match never mattered to the voices. As soon as I step foot onto that court, they start to get louder in my head, start to scream at me everything I wished I could just ignore. “ _You’re gonna fail. Why do you keep trying? Look at that, you messed up again! Watch your footing or you’re gonna trip up again, you sorry excuse for a player. What the hell was that?! You call yourself a Captain?! You’re fucking **pathetic**!_ ” As hard as I try, I could never block them out, I can never play good enough to make them stop. Nothing is good enough. Nothing is perfect. Nothing is right. Someway, somehow, I always feel like I let everybody down even if we have a game with a perfect score. There’s always something wrong, always something that isn’t done right, always something I could have done, but I didn’t get done. As artificial as I am to everybody outside this world, I never want to let anybody down – not my team, not my friends, not my fans. I have to strive for perfection. I have to keep trying. I have to make the voices **_stop_**. I groaned as I ran a hand through my hair slowly to try to calm myself down and gain some of my breath back before I turned my gaze up once more to face the door to my first class.

Silently, I pushed it opened and stepped inside, moving on through the back of the classroom to avoid the attention of any of the other kids already here. Nobody looked back, thankfully, so I was able to release the breath I hadn’t noticed I had been holding in once I took a seat at my desk. I’m not too invested in academics and all, but I do manage to keep myself doing well in my classes most of the time. They’re all alright, I suppose, but I have to admit, this first class of the day has always been my favorite. It has nothing to do with the subject or the teacher or the material. No, I hardly even talk to anybody here! What makes this class my favorite is the person who sits next to me. In perfect timing, the door to the room opened and her frame came into sight. A sweet, tender smile angled her lips as she turned her eyes over towards me and waved in silent greeting before she began to make her way towards her seat beside mine. _______. She is…perfect. She’s sweet, kind, caring, she’s a listener and she doesn’t care about all the gilded shit on the surface. She talks to me and cares about what I have to say. When we’re talking about the most random things in the world and I have something to say, she looks _at_ me, not _through_ me. She doesn’t pretend to listen just to take a glance at me. She doesn’t act like she loves volleyball to try to reel me in. No, she genuinely cares. She genuinely tries. Whenever she’s around, the voices go quiet and my mind fogs up. The cool act and appearance I try to withhold melts to nothing right in her hands and I’m left in a puddle of myself.   

She, like nobody else, knows who I _really_ am, not what people say I am, and she accepts me for it.

I feel like a hot mess whenever she comes to me. Whenever we speak, I swear I’m making myself out to be a fool, but she laughs. She smiles. She beams. She _glows_. It’s all lighthearted, friendly and accepting, so I always find myself laughing with her. Smiling. Beaming. Glowing. I wish I could be everything she could want. I wish I could be everything she would ever need. I want that. I want to be her everything, but I’m not so sure I’ll ever get to make it there. “Hey, Tetsurou,” She greeted me in that lovely, soft voice of hers as she took a seat beside me, scooting her desk a little closer to me so as to not speak too loudly in the half empty class. “You’re here early. Have they put anything up that we have to get done before I got here?” She questioned, gesturing to the board with her thumb. I shook my head, gulping quietly. _Just be cool. You do this all the time. Just act like you always do._ “Hey, _______. Naw, they haven’t said anything. So…how’s it hangin’?” I mused, going to lean my chin on my palm with my elbow resting on the desk, but to my horror, _I fucking missed._ I stumbled forward a bit in my seat, blinking in surprise with widened eyes at my own stupidity as I tried to seat myself up correctly again and regain my composure. _How the hell did I miss that?!_ Yet, just as I was about to start cursing myself a million times over to the moon and back again, I heard her start to laugh.

Turning an embarrassed glance in her direction, I watched as her face lit up in joy and amusement, her cheeks gently hazed in a soft pink color. Ah…she’s gorgeous. I love her laugh, her smile. I just want to cup her cheeks in my hands and kiss her all over…! “I- I meant to do that.” I chuckled as I rubbed my arm a bit awkwardly, finding myself laughing with her now as she turned herself towards me a little more in her seat. “No, no, it’s fine! That was precious! You don’t need to worry – I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened to me before.” Ugh, my _heart_. She thinks I’m _precious_! How could she possibly think that? I don’t think I’m even slightly close to being precious, but I’m sure as hell glad she thinks so! Waving at her dismissively, I gave her a bigger, slightly more confident smile in return for her kind words. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone, then.” Bright and warm as always, she kept her friendly smile on as she nodded her head in reply, her thumbs beginning to twiddle together atop of her desk. She looked to be getting a little more…nervous. Kind of shy, even. Oh God, _she_ was precious. _She_ was beautiful. Whenever I got to have a glance into her shyer state, I could practically feel as my heart clenched and skipped a beat, trying to make my mind rush to the conclusion that maybe it was because of me.      

As much as I’d like to believe that, though, who am I kidding?

Why would someone as amazing as her be into someone like me?

She can find someone a million times better who could really give her the world…

“So,” Her voice brought me off of my train of thought just before it could crash right into a brick wall of negativity again. “I heard that you guys have a game tonight. Are you excited for it?” I tried with everything inside of me to stop a grimace from taking over my expression at her question and thank God and everything that was listening, I succeeded. Somehow, I managed to keep up my smile even though I could feel myself die a little on the inside…Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerative, but really, not by too much. Of course I’m excited for the game; how could I not be? The thing is, I’m absolutely terrified for it, too. It’s a big game and we’ve been practicing for it for a long time now and I’m just scared I’m going to end up fucking up. What if I mess it up for the rest of the team? What if I let everybody down when they all depend on me as a Captain? What if I can’t do the things everybody expects and thinks I can do? What if I trip up and let the nervousness get to me? All of this pressure has been building up day after day as the game grew nearer and now, it was just a couple of hours away. I should have practiced more. I should have stayed after school longer. Regular practice wasn’t enough. I have to be _perfect_ just like everybody thinks I am, but I don’t feel like I’m even half way there.

Looking at _______, I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice before flashing a toothy grin and saying there wasn’t going to be anything to it, but I couldn’t do that with her. She was the only one apart from my team and Bokuto who genuinely accepted me and listened to me. She was the only one who bothered to learn about who I am as person, the only one who even gushes about comics with me. I can’t do that to her, but how can I tell her all of this? How could I possibly tell her I’m terrified to death of failing? How could I tell her about the stress from trying to be perfect and how trying to appease everyone’s beliefs was threatening to sink me down lower and lower? Truth is, I can’t. I can’t tell her any of that. I don’t want to be a burden to her with my insignificant problems. Why should they matter to her? I bet she has a lot more important things to deal with than me. “Yeah, I’m excited, but kind of nervous, too.” Finally, that’s what came out. It wasn’t a lie and I didn’t have to tell her the full truth of it. It was just barely enough to answer her question without causing her any trouble. “I feel like we’re ready for it, but maybe I should have practiced more. I mean, I did every time we met up, but maybe a bit more would have done me good. There’s always for improvement, right?”    

My automatic assumption about where this conversation would lead was simply that she would pass this off with a quick reply and the conversation would be buried beneath others. I didn’t expect her to care too much, but not because she’s that type of person. No, it’s just become a natural process for me in my head. I don’t feel like I’m important enough to really care much for, so why would I weigh myself on the opposite side of the spectrum? Even with those thoughts in mind, however, I watched as her expression softened, her eyes giving off that beautiful, kind, warm gaze they always did. God, she has beautiful eyes. Such lovely, long lashes to flutter with them. “There’s nothing you should be worried about. You’re an amazing player and an even more amazing Captain! I know this game is going to go by just fine for you. I’ve always had nothing but the utmost faith in you, so I know everything will go fine. Even if you guys don’t win, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you try your best and enjoy yourself.” She looked away from me then to her fiddling thumbs, that pink haze that dusted over her cheeks seeming to get a little bit darker. Was I seeing right? Or was that just a trick of the light?

“I’ll be proud of you no matter what happens.”

Her words struck a large cord in me, the sentence repeating and echoing in my head as my eyes widened as far as they could go. She was…she was proud of me? She had faith in me? From the way she was talking, it sounds like she has been to the games before, but I had never seen her there…Had she maybe been hiding by the back during the matches? Had she really been watching me play? As exciting as the possibility was, the only thing that really mattered to me then was the fact that she said she’d be proud of me. She’d be proud of me whether I won or lost the game. Why? Why would she say something like that? Was there something more behind her words? I didn’t know, but what I did know was that it meant worlds to me to hear that from her. To know that she was actually proud of me for more than just the prospect of gaining another win, for more than just being a bigshot player…it just made my heart flutter. That always felt weird when it happened, but a good kind of weird. A really good kind. I was left speechless, I realized, and even as I tried to bring up the words to say, my tongue betrayed me. I couldn’t find the strength to speak and just sort of stared at her with my mouth slightly hung agape as the sound of the bell ringing resounded in the room. Soon afterwards, the teacher entered the room, telling the class to take a seat, but all I could do was continue to stare at _______ for a moment frozen in time. She turned her view back to me one last time, though, and gave me a bashful smile before looking ahead towards the board in front of us.

Slowly, I followed her lead, looking forward as well to avoid any sort of unnecessary callouts, but still I was unable to fully grasp the fact that those words had really come from her. She really believed in me. She had faith in me. She was _proud_ of me. Why was she proud? What had I done to make her proud? What had she seen? What had she heard? It was killing me not to know because all I ever want to do is make her proud of me. I just want her to see me as the kind of guy she could look up to, someone she could go to when she needed them. I want to be the boy…no…the _man_ she wants and deserves, so if I could have just the closest inkling of what that may be, then I would take it. I would take it for her. Shaking my head a bit to myself so I could pull myself back to reality, I let myself sink deeper into my seat as I heard the teacher speak without really listening, the most prominent sound in my ears being the harsh pounding of my heart. Goddamn thing couldn’t control itself. One of these days, it’s going to run itself out of my chest! Subconsciously, I brought a hand up to grip at the front of my shirt where my heart was supposed to be and took a quiet breath to try to compose myself. I may not be what everybody thinks I am, I may not have the self-confidence so many perceive for me to have, but I would do anything to hear those words from her again. I love the way it feels, to know she’s proud of me. I want to keep it that way. I want to make sure she’s always proud of me no matter what.

I just hope I don’t make a fool out of myself while doing it.

 

~¤ ¤ ¤ ¤~

 

_The sounds of a cheering crowd surrounded us. The court was well-lit beneath our feet as the ball was spiked back and forth, but the opposing team didn’t have a prayer. There was no way they could have caught up to us even if they had a miracle. Being one point away from winning the match, my team and I coordinated our plays flawlessly, our communication passing through all kinds of leaps and bounds as the winning point was finally made. The feeling the ball left hot and burning on my hand felt incredible with the addition of the shouted cheers surrounding us, echoing from the stands all around the court. Looking up, I had to stand in awe for a moment with a wide smile on my face, taking in the amazing feeling it all brought. All the nervousness from the game had completely washed itself away within me when we were declared the victors and I couldn’t have been prouder. My heart pounded fast and steady within me in triumph as we all gathered together in celebration on the court, laughing and crying out in victory together. It never ceased to amaze me just how incredible it felt to win a match, to actually manage to do something so…outstanding. To many, winning a simple game of volleyball may not mean a lot, but to me and to the rest of the team, I know it always felt like we were on top of the world._

_Soon enough, everybody began to disperse, beginning to make way towards the exit of the court and stadium. As we walked down the halls together with bags slung over our shoulders and the delighted grins still on our faces, I looked around to see there was actually a pretty large turnout to the game. The halls were fuller than they normally were for a game like this, but it’s not like it’s a bad thing. My guess is that they were more avid fans of high school volleyball or something. I don’t know. It didn’t really matter to me, though. I was happy. Extremely happy. There was no fault I could pinpoint in this scene at all and the voices, try as they might, have gone quiet at last. No negativity. No self-consciousness. All I could see was a bright road up ahead and damn, did it feel good. It felt fucking incredible to have that pressure lifted off of my shoulders after all the years I had spent keeping it buried beneath. What was holding me back now? What’s wrong? Nothing at all! I had to contain myself at the thought, feeling as an equally as happy laugh began to bubble up inside of me because of it. I never thought I would actually be able to feel like this again and, even if it’s a foreign, odd sensation, I can’t get enough of it!_

_Looking towards the large double doors that signaled the exit of the building, however, something caught my eye. The area around me was full and crowded, bustling with people, but there was a clear space by the doors with only one person standing in front of them. _______. Had she come to see me play? I felt myself stop in my tracks at the thought of the possibility, eyes widening. I turned my gaze around me then, realizing the team wasn’t there anymore. I was on my own in the crowd, but I could see a clear beeline to her through the ocean of people ahead of me. Maybe now is my chance to tell her…Maybe I should go to her and finally let her know what I think of her! Why not? Why let this sudden spike of confidence go to waste, right? So, I took a breath and moved forward, following the clear beeline without a hitch. Hell, it was so perfect, nobody even touched me. I didn’t bump into anybody, didn’t have to pardon my way through. It was as if they knew what was happening and were deliberately opening up this space for me to get to her. The thought urged me to pick up my pace as her details came more and more into view, a soft, sweet smile angling her lips as her gaze locked with my own. I didn’t dare look away. I just let my feet land where they may through the crowd as I got closer and closer to her until finally, we were face-to-face._

_Instantly, I was wrapped up in her space. The mumbling chatter of the people around us had turned to nothing but hardly audible background noise as we just sort of stared at each other for a moment in silence. God, she looked amazing. She always did. Her cheeks were a hazed and heated red, a bashful look composing her expression as she offered me more of a skittish smile. I found myself reacting naturally in reply, smiling back to her wide and smooth like everybody had seen of me before. Is that what she liked? The confident, suave version of myself? “You came. Did you like the game?” Shit, even if I tried to act that way, I still felt like I was being awkward as hell. Yet, it seemed to earn me a positive response judging by the nod she gave me, the smile widening a bit more on her lips. “I-I did…but, honestly…I mainly came just to see you.” A chill ran down my back quick as lightning at the sound of her words, goosebumps rising over my skin as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. She came to see **me**?  Oh God, could this get any better?! Steady, Tetsurou, steady…Don’t be weird. Act cool. Be suave. Be smooth. Be what everybody had always wanted you to be. That’s what she wanted to see, right? Why would she want me to be anything less? I doubt she has a thing for awkward nervousness. _

_“Really? Well then, I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now.” I let a smirk angle my lips even if it wasn’t entirely what I wanted to do. Her large eyes widened a bit as I leaned in a little closer to her, taking her chin in between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up towards me. “I’m crazy about you. You’re everything I want and so much more. I’ve been dying to just grab you and make you mine since we first became friends.” I turned my gaze down towards her lips, my breath catching silently as I took in just how full and soft they seemed to be. I wonder what they’d feel like against mine…”Bottom line is, you’re incredible and gorgeous and I want you…Just…let me make you mine…” She showed no signs of rejection, no signal or red flag that told me she didn’t want me as much as I wanted her, but even so, it all felt horribly wrong to me. A knot had twisted up horribly in my stomach despite the look I had on my face and I could feel it getting tighter and tighter the closer my lips got to her own. I felt like I was moving without my own consent. I didn’t want it to be this way. I had never thought my confession to her would be so brash and emotionless._

_I didn’t want to say that to her. I didn’t want to be so blunt. I didn’t want to sound so…forwardly…dirty. Was that the right word? I don’t know. I just know it wasn’t exactly the nicest way of wording what I felt for her. I felt a lot more than just crazy about her. She wasn’t just incredible, wasn’t just gorgeous. She had more to her than just the looks. She was perfect to me inside and out. Her heart had to be made of liquid gold, her soul pure honey. She was addictive to me in more than just her beautiful appearance. Everything about her attracted me to her, but more so, it was her personality, the fact that she accepted me with open arms as the person I am and so much more. Why couldn’t I say that? Why did I have to say things so bluntly? I don’t like being suave, I don’t like being smooth. Not if it all meant I had to demean everything I truly felt for her in a couple of emotionless lines. She deserved so much more than that. She deserved the world, the moon, the stars and the universe in its entirety, so why couldn’t I say it? Why couldn’t I tell her how I really felt and what I really saw? My mind brought all the words up clear as day to the point where I could see them lined up in my head, but my tongue refused to move. My voice betrayed me, keeping me silent as I betrayed both _______ and myself with the kiss I was about to steal from her. Closer and closer and-_

**_BRIIIIING_ **

I sprang up straight and stiff in my seat as the bell rung loud in my ears, my eyes widening as far as they could. Ripped out of my daydream, my hands had clung to the sides of my desk out of a natural reaction as I looked around myself, watching as the rest of the kids in the room began to stand and leave to their next class. When it fully sunken in that what had happened between _______ and I had merely been me dazing off in my mind, I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. On one hand, the moment of confidence I felt had all been fake. I wasn’t really okay with everything, I didn’t feel proud and mighty as I had paraded myself to be for such a long time. The poise feeling which had weld up inside me when I approached _______ had never been there and I had never had the guts in reality to confess to her. On the other hand, I’m not so sure I would have wanted to confess to her the way I did in my head. Yes, I wanted to tell her how I felt. Yes, I wanted to completely sweep her off of her feet with the way I’d do it. Yes, I want to leave her completely entranced, but I don’t like the idea of doing it like… _that_. I want to be myself when I tell her how I feel, want to be as goofy as we are when we’re on our own, but would she like me if I did that? Would she still accept my feelings if I wasn’t what everybody thought I was?  

At the thought, I turned my view towards her, watching as she stood to her feet with her bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes met mine for a split, magnificent second only for her to turn her gaze towards the ground beneath her feet the next. For a moment, I thought maybe it was a bad sign, but then I noticed the smile that angled her lips which never failed to light up the room she was in. “I’ll see you around, Tetsurou. G-good luck at the game tonight. I’m sure you’ll be as amazing as you always are.” With that, she waved at me, peeking another glance in my direction before she made her way to the door and left me on my own with the remainder of the linger kids. Taking a quiet breath, I shook my head and willed myself to stand, distant in my own mind. My heart was pounding again…She believed in me…I don’t want to let her down. Even if she never shows up to a single one of my games, I want to be able to come to her tomorrow and tell her we won. I want her to be proud of me. It feels incredible to know she believes in me, but I want there to be reason for it. No matter how terrified I may be on the inside of screwing this game up royally, I’ll try my best. I’ll do everything I possibly can within my abilities to make sure her belief in me isn’t wrongly placed. While I’m at it, I’ll even think of ways I can finally tell her how I feel about her. Maybe the game will give me the confidence to go for it like it did in my daydream, but this time, I’ll do it right. Even if I don’t confess to her, I want to make her feel as special as she makes me feel. I want to be able to do that by being myself just like her.

I just hope she’ll still accept me as the fool I really am.

 

~¤ ¤ ¤ ¤~

 

The cheering of the fans was causing my head to pound. The fluorescent lights shinning down on the court momentarily blinded me whenever I looked up. My stomach rolled, clenched and knotted every single time I took a glance at the scoreboard, seeing just how close we were to losing it all. In the end, the game turned out to be nothing like my daydream. We were nearing the final defining moments of the last quarter and we were just a point away from winning. However, to ruin that, the opposing team only needed _two_ points to win. They caught up to us quick, leaving no room to let that confident air in like I had in my mind earlier in the day. Instead of feeling proud of myself, all I felt was sick to the stomach. I felt completely awful because of the difference there was in reality compared to my fantasy. My teammates had all been praising me whenever I managed to land a score and had disregarded any mistakes I may have made, telling me it was fine and to just try again, but I didn’t feel the same. I let them down. I was failing everybody. They had all worked so hard during practices for this game and I completely failed. I’m not what I wanted to be. I’m not as good as I was in my head. I’m not the amazing Captain and player everybody sees me as.

I’m not _perfect_.

I hated having to strive for perfection because I knew I would never make it up that high, but what else was I supposed to do when so many people depended on me being flawless? They never said it out loud, but I just feel I need to meet that unspoken goal simply for them. For everybody else but myself. It’s an awful, indescribable feeling because you can never pinpoint its origin on anything current. Nobody ever said I had to do it, nobody ever implied I have to be perfect, nobody even brought it up, but I still feel inclined to be – obligated, even. It’s not because of my team, it’s not because of the screaming fans. It’s all because of the image of me that has been tagged onto my back in a seemingly permanent stitch. My public image has become the sly, suave boy who never fails, never lets anyone down. The flawless, mysterious Captain, ready to tear down every scoreboard against any opponent. Perfect, perfect, perfect. I have to be perfect. I don’t want to be, I **_have_** to be and I’m failing like I always do. It’s awful and I hate it. I can’t stomach it, but if I’m going to be a failure regardless, I at least want to push my team through towards a victory in this match. It won’t be perfect, won’t be what I initially envisioned, but it will be something. I just want them to be happy and proud. That’s all I want.

Panting hard and heavy, I listened as my sneakers squeaked louder than usual when I came to a halt by the side of our end on the court, my eyes glued on the ball as it passed from person to person, set after set of hands tossing it between both ends. We couldn’t keep going like this. It’s been a constant back and forth of keeping the ball off of each other’s ground for a long while now. Sooner or later, one of the teams was going to falter and the winner would be declared. I had to make sure that was us. I had to make sure we won! So, I kept myself in position, watching with as sharp a look as I could when the ball came hurdling towards us again. Seeing it near the back’s ground, I hissed beneath my breath and rushed towards it without evening thinking before diving for it. With wide eyes, I watched as the ball approached me almost as if in slow-motion, coming in closer and closer until it hit both of my balled up fists and flew up into the air again. Sliding across the slick ground, I kept my eyes set on the ball as one of the others rushed to it, waiting for it to descend towards them in an attempt to finally make that winning score. Once more, the world seemed to roll by in slow-motion as I stepped up to my feet again, but for whatever reason, I decided to take a look away from the court towards the stands just to make sure this was all happening. I quickly skimmed the audience as I always did with these sudden glances, but just before I turned back towards the game, something incredible caught my eye.

 _______ was actually there. She was right up front in the first row, smiling straight at me.

The initial shock and surprise of the realization completely pulled me out of the game, something that never happened to me. Standing up straight, I stared at her in disbelief, almost threatening my head not to start making images appear before me to screw me up, but I was quickly shown this wasn’t a dream. The sound of the ball finally slamming against the ground echoed behind me, soon followed by the intense, joyous cheering of the crowd around us. I could hear my team shouting in victory, confirming that we had made the winning score. Yet, through the chaotic hype the game caused, all I could see was her. She didn’t scream like the others did, didn’t jump and wave herself wildly about. She held her hands together by her chest, a bright, wide and bashful smile on her face with a red blush to adorn those sweet cheeks of hers. Her gaze soft and alluring, I found myself attracted to it, unable to stop myself from walking right over to her as everybody rejoiced in the close match. She had been there through it all. She saw my mistakes. She saw that I wasn’t perfect. Does she hate me now? Does she want nothing to do with me because I’m an imperfection? If so, why was she smiling at me like that? Was it a form of torture? Did she somehow find out I like her and is now using that against me to hurt me for not being flawless? No, she can’t. She’s not like that. She’s sweet, kind, angelic, heavenly, pure, amazing. She’d never do that.

Approaching her by the stands, I found myself speechless as I stared up at her from my side of the small elevated ledge that divided us, but we weren’t so far apart. I could reach out to touch her if I so wanted to. Yet, when I first thought I would have a mouthful to say, I was now in a dead silence, just looking her over in the after-lasting shock from her being here. Shy as can be, she looked back down at me with that sweet grin from her place on the other side as she brought her hands down to rest on the edge of the elevated wall between us. “You played as amazingly as you always do. Congratulations on the win. I always knew you’d do it.” I felt my heart sink at her words. How could she say that? I made a million and more different mistakes. How could she still have this utmost confidence in me when all I saw was me failing everybody miserably – including her. I frowned at the thought, looking away from her as my hands balled up into tight fists by my sides. “What do you mean? I was awful. The only reason we won is because I have everybody else to help me and cover up for my stupid mess-ups. I made more mistakes than I’d like to admit and I…I’m not happy with any of it at all. I should have done better, I should have tried harder…I’m sorry I didn’t do as well as you had expected. I’m sorry if I let you down…”

I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t meet her sweet, gorgeous sight with how ashamed I felt for the letdown. How could I after I played such a sorry excuse for a game? Everybody else on the team played outstandingly in my eyes, both on the opposing team and on our own, but I don’t feel the same way about myself. If I had tried a little harder…"Tetsurou, what are you talking about? You didn’t let me down. You were amazing…!” Her words ebbed me to look towards her again and the sight of her brightened expression set confusion in me. Why did she seem so happy? Over what I had done on the court? I hardly kept myself afloat and she was still happy for me…? “Everybody makes mistakes, Tetsurou, that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up over them. To me, you’re perfect just the way you are. You always have been. You played perfectly in my eyes because, well, it’s something I know you love doing. Everything else shouldn’t matter so long as you’re enjoying yourself and love what you’re doing, right? So, don’t be sorry and don’t talk like that because, no matter what the outcome, I’ll always be proud of you.” Leaning down, I felt her press her lips gently against my cheek, paying me a tender, affectionate little kiss that set my heart to flutter and burst in excitement with the mix from her kind speech. Watching her with wide eyes, I brought a hand up to the cheek she kissed once she pulled away, noticing just how much brighter her blush had become and how much shyer she seemed to be.

Through the shock, I could hear the others call out to me from behind, but I couldn’t find the will to turn and see. My mind had completely fogged over once more in the best of ways because of her and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. _Damn, did I love it_. “I-I guess you have to be going. Text me when you get home?” Unable to bring up words to give her in reply, I gave her a nod of my head, praying to God that I didn’t look like a dead fish with how wide my eyes still were. She didn’t seem to pay it much mind, though, since the cutest little giggle left her in response to my actions before she began to walk away with the rest of the crowd, but even then, she kept turning to look at me from over her shoulder. She waved her hand at me as a final goodbye for the night and finally, I managed to lift my free hand to wave back. She’s still proud of me…She’s still proud of me even if I made more mistakes than I could ever wish to count. Even though she saw I’m not like what people perceive me to be, she still accepted me, even told me to text her later on. A smile slowly began to angle my lips as the thought sunk in, getting wider and wider until my cheeks hurt and I knew they couldn’t stretch any further. So, maybe I’m not the confident Casanova everybody thinks I am. Maybe I don’t have a way with words like everybody perceives. Maybe I can’t be as flawless as everybody expects, but that’s okay.

To her, I was perfect despite all the imperfections I always point out in myself. 


End file.
